After a long stretch of morning and breakfast in my little
Gilligan’s Island hut, I moved myself down the stairs slowly. I have entered
the no rush zone. My only agenda
was to go to the beach with a book.
I parked myself in a little spot that allowed me to hang
stuff on a tree and stayed on the beach for hours. Some swimming, some lounging
with me, a book and sun block on little Maho beach.
The water: Not only is it a turquoise color, but it’s not
too chilly to just get in there. One reason I don’t love swimming in the ocean
is because it’s usually such extreme cold to the contrast of a warm heated
body. Not to mention the roughness
of it all. I like calm waters. I like floating. I like no currents dragging me
to the other end of a beach and I have to force myself back. I like playing
dead and when I come alive again being in the same happy spot.
I swam, I did back stokes, breast strokes and doggy paddle.
I chose where I wanted to go in the stillness of the water. I swam out to this
little yellow sailboat and back, and then I worked my way over toward Big Maho
Bay which was just a contour away and a bigger stretch of beach. I passed the exotic fish and turtle
seeking snorkel people who looked all disappointed that they didn’t see what
they were seeking.
As I floated, I thought about snorkeling. I’ve snorkeled in the past and I’ve
attempted to get certified for scuba because that was what everyone was doing
once when I was at Turks Caicos. This trip I figured I’d be snorkeling like
most people do.
Until I thought about it as I floated above the water. I
thought about the purpose of this water on earth and how it is used to
transport vessels from one part of a country or city or bay to another. I
wonder though, is that the purpose for these waters? Or is it a world in and of
itself that existed before we found a use for it? Bingo. All of a sudden we humans
began to see it as a means to transport goods and beings and we began to
pollute the waters with our fumes and our missions. We began to fish in it for food and dive in it for
recreation.
I decided that I am not going to dive in it as a voyeur to
watch the underworld and how they live. There are enough people doing that. I
decided to believe in the mystery of it all and to leave them alone with me and
my snorkel gear. I know there are
sea turtles. I know what they look like.
I’m sure there is some beauty under me as I swim in these
waters, and I’m grateful that the beings in these waters allow me to swim and
float and move my body in the glory of it, but I don’t need to put on a mask
and fins and gadgets and goop at them living their lives undersea. It made me think of hunters going in
the woods as if it’s their right and shooting animals for sport. It made me
think of the hooks at the end of fishing poles being toss into a peaceful sea
or bay teasing these mammals with enticing food only to hook them, kill them
and slice them up or throw them back because they are not good enough.
I won’t fish. I won’t scuba and I won’t snorkel. Just like I don’t want anyone peering
down on me for recreation or far worse coming into my home and shooting me so
they can brag about it later.
Now, on a lighter, warmer note about swimming: it’s just so good for my body and I
love the weightlessness of it. I used to love my swims in the UC Berkeley pool
and the gym at Equinox and I’ve let that all go because of the busy factor of
life, and frankly, because it takes time and I get all wet a sticky and can’t
just go for a swim at lunch hour. Nevertheless, I do love it. I still have the little medal I won at
Kiddy Beach and remember my mom cheering me on as I swam from raft to raft and
won that race.
While I was swimming and feeling the warmth of the sun as I
floated on my back I went into this place of imagining the womb. It was just so
beautiful. So safe and I thought of how awesome it is that we start our lives
this way. We float around in this
warm fluid as we are connected in the deepest and most profound way possible to
another human being. As I floated, I felt such deep gratitude for my mother who
nurtured five of us this way. I thought of pregnant women and how this nine
month period should be a time of being still and just experiencing that, and
nothing else. Learning about this life, rubbing their tummies and speaking
softly to this growing human floating inside their bellies. I thought of how it
must have felt to be there. I felt the sadness that comes from time to time
that as a woman with this body that is capable of such an experience, didn’t
have one. I didn’t get to feel
that sensation and bring a child to life and no matter how I mask that with all
of the justifications and rationalizations and understandings, there are times
that I enter a realm of deep sadness that I missed out on something so profound
that words only minimize it, I’m sure.
Still, I float and feel the sensations, honor my
choices and keep swimming and remember how much I truly do adore my freedom.
